IA03.7
"Thank you, Flower. Patch it through to my bedroom." Mel stormed over to the viewscreen, still angry at the Doctor's escape. On the way, she kicked over a footstool, an antique Kaled vase, and her collection of rare Sontaran perfumes. "Hail to thee, Great Mistress Mel, esteemed leader of the Dalek race!" "Who the hell are you?" barked Mel, peering at the slightly chubby face in her viewscreen. "My name is Mortimus. I have some information for you which you might find very important." "I very much doubt it. Good day." She reached to flip the switch off, but Mortimus hurriedly interrupted. "It concerns the whereabouts of the Doctor!" Mistress Mel paused. "The Doctor? What do you know about that two-timing, double-faced, lying scumbag?" Mortimus couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I heard from some of your Dalek agents that you were interested in finding him, that you had some old scores to settle with him." "You've got that right!" "Well, I can tell you where to find him." "Wait a minute -- what's in this for you?" "Nothing -- absolutely nothing at all! I have some old scores to settle with the Doctor as well." At this point, Mortimus' eyes began to mist over. "I ... the Doctor broke my heart once in the past, as well. I ... I have just as much desire to bring him to justice as you do." Mel couldn't be sure, but she thought she detected a mischievous glint in his eye as he pronounced the last line. This Mortimus was a shady character. She wasn't sure whether or not she could trust him. "Hmm ... well in that case, spill the beans -- where is he?" Mortimus' face lit up. "Oh -- some ... friends of mine have informed me that he is currently on the planet Necros, searching for that derelict father of his. He's probably going to be there a while. If you took a taskforce of Daleks, you could probably intercept him and catch him there if you hurry." Mel considered. "Very well. Thank you, Mortimus. If you're correct, then feel free to stop by my Pleasure Dome on Skaro the next time you're in this sector of the galaxy. But if you're lying to me -- if you're really working for the Doctor! -- then I'll have my Daleks hunt you down and perform the most excruciating tortures to your weasely, pathetic person!" Mortimus bowed. "Oh, thank you, Mistress Mel. Your reputation is well-deserved. I wish thee good luck in thy quest to bring the Doctor to justice." Mel rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Mortimus." She flipped the off-switch and turned to Flower, who had been waiting patiently in the corner. "Flower, prepare my personal hyperspace cruiser. Bring a detachment of 100 Daleks, including 10 Special Weapons Daleks and 1 Master of Poetry." "Thy will be done, O great Mistress." As Mel slipped on a knee-high leather boot, as an afterthought she added, "Oh -- and bring 'Susan'." The audience of celebrating Cybermen and Sontarans applauded and whistled as "Florentina La Palma" completed his/her performance. The Doctor continued to stare in bug-eyed silence as the Master in drag strode down the steps from the platform, assisted by Sontarans who gently held his/her hands to keep him/her from falling in the high heels. "Well, what did you think of my performance, dear brother?" said "Florentina" as she walked up to the stunned Doctor. Grace had to elbow him before he responded. "Oh! Er ... um ... it was ... um ... very ... educational!" the Doctor gasped. The Master chuckled and threw his arms around the Doctor and hugged him. "Oh, Doctor, you always had a sense of humor. I'm sure my little display was pathetic as compared to those in some of the seedy establishments which you sometimes frequent." He began to laugh again, and when Grace joined him, the bug-eyed Doctor began to chuckle half-heartedly as well, although Grace could see that the Doctor was terrified. "Come inside, dear Doctor, and bring your darling new companion with you. We have so much to catch up with in each others lives." Linking elbows with the Doctor and Grace, the drag queen led them into the Necros Cyber-Hilton across the street. Grace couldn't understand why the Doctor looked so afraid of his favorite brother and best friend in the whole universe. "Oh, Mortimus, you certainly have outdone yourself this time," Mortimus chuckled to himself. Whistling, he set his TARDIS in hover mode above Necros, waiting for the inevitable confrontation which he had set in motion. No sooner had he completed his maneuver than his viewscreen activated, and a sterile, white spotlight shown out from it. A disembodied voice spoke forth, "What progress, Mortimus?" Mortimus chuckled nervously. "All is going according to plan. I've maneuvered one of the Doctor's ex's into meeting him on Necros. And one of the more psychotic ones, as well. She'll keep him out of the way long enough for us to find Ulysses before the Doctor does." Mortimus waited nervously for the voice to respond. He could never quite tell if it was male or female. "Very good. You are to be commended. Let us hope your counterpart from the other Doctor's universe does his job as well." "Oh, if he's me, then you can count on it. You can count on it indeed." He chuckled as the light faded from the viewscreen. "So, Doctor, you old rascal you, what have you been up to these past few months?" asked the Master, handing the Doctor a cup of tea. With his blond wig and high heels removed, the Master looked an androgynous mess. The Doctor nervously accepted the tea. "Well, you know ... spending time with my ... latest catch, seeing the sights ... enjoying the good life." He hurriedly sipped the tea to calm his nerves. The Master smiled, sat back in the easy chair, and crossed his legs. "I never would have thought it -- you in love with the woman who killed your last regeneration. I guess wonders never cease." "I wouldn't call it love, exactly," the Doctor said, trying to put the right amount of malicious gleam into his eye. Playing the gigolo was completely new to him. The Master sat back and chuckled again. "I knew it! You never could stay with the same woman for more than one decade. Love 'em and leave 'em was always your motto. She is quite a catch -- I envy you, Doctor," and a note of sadness came into the Master's voice. "You always have a woman at your side, you're always out and about, having fun, doing the universe ... and look at me, a washed-up old Time Lord, resorting to cheap cross-dressing shows and a dull law practice to make a living. I do what little I can to add something to the universe, y et nothing ever seems to matter. I feel so ... unfulfilled." The Master crossed his legs in the other direction. The Doctor had never in his many lives imagined himself in such an absurd situation. Now he knew why the Time Lords in his universe had always made such a strict rule of not crossing into parallel universes. "Ever since you rescued me from my trial," the Master continued, sobbing now, "and found me this new body on Earth, I ... I ... " he threw his arms around the Doctor and buried his head in his shoulder, "... I've wanted to repay you, but I couldn't think of any way ..." The Master began to bawl uncontrollably. "There, there," said the Doctor, patting him on the back, and looking around the empty hotel suite in the hopes that Grace might come in from her room and rescue him. "Think nothing of it. After all, what are brothers for, eh?" The Master looked up into his eyes and smiled in joyous thanks. The Doctor wasn't sure whether he preferred this Master or the wholly evil one from his universe. In the next universe but one ... The Doctor and Grace strode on through the fields of Necros, until the Doctor caught sight of some buildings up ahead. "A-ha! Look over there!" "I'm not falling for that again," said Grace, tenderly rubbing her behind. "No, really -- there are some buildings over there!" Grace looked up, and sure enough, there were some signs of civilization. She and the Doctor from the parallel universe continued until they came to a high stone wall. "Give me your leg -- I'll help you over," said the Doctor, a randy gleam in his eye. "Oh no you don't!" said Grace, making a saddle with her hands. "I'll help *you* over first." "Fine, have it your way," the Doctor said, stroking his mustache. "You won't be able to hold out against my irresistible charm forever, you know." "That's what I'm afraid of," muttered Grace as she heaved the Doctor up onto the wall. He graciously helped pull her up after him. They tumbled into the grass together on the other side, and somehow Grace ended up pinned beneath him. She struggled to escape from under him as he held her arms down and tried to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her lips. Suddenly, he looked up. "What's the matter? What's wrong?" asked Grace, suspecting a trick. The Doctor rolled off of her and stood up, dusting the grass from his body and pointing. "Look! That statue!" Grace whirled around. In the midst of what appeared to be a cemetery, a giant ten-foot headstone reared from the ground, bearing the exact likeness of her Doctor. "That's me!" said the alternate Doctor, indignantly, "but without the mustache!" "Duh!" They strode over to the headstone for a closer look. "Do you know what this means, Grace?" "What?" replied Grace, suddenly uncertain as to her future. "Your Doctor must have died here! I am now the only Doctor remaining!" Grace suddenly squealed in terror. The Doctor turned around, but it was too late. The giant, marble headstone fell over and crushed him to the ground beneath it. Grace woke up the next morning in her Cyber-Hilton hotel room and groaned. This was two mornings in a row in which she hadn't woken up next to her Doctor. She suddenly realized that she felt nauseous. Without even bothering to put on the pajamas that the Master had loaned her, she ran into the bathroom. The phone rang in the Doctor's suite, jolting him into wakefulness. He sprang up from the armchair in which he had fallen asleep, and searched around for the phone. Suddenly, he spied it, ringing atop a desk. He punched the on-switch, and the picture of an old, grizzled man appeared. "Wake-up call." The picture disappeared. "Wait a minute," the Doctor murmured, "I've seen that man somewhere before ..." Suddenly, the entire hotel began to shake. The Doctor ran over to the window and yanked aside the curtains. A funky, new-age shuttlecraft was landing outside. Embossed on its side was the picture of a Dalek. "Oh, no," the Doctor thought. He ran across the room, unbolted the door, and ran outside. He fled down fifteen flights of emergency steps, darted through the kitchens (where he startled several Cyber-chefs), and ran out the back door, into an alleyway. And then stopped cold. He was surrounded by Daleks. A cackling, high-pitched laugh echoed through the alley, and Mistress Mel appeared around one corner, electric whip in hand. "Oh Doctor, you're so predictable. Bring him!" Surrounded by trigger-happy Daleks, the Doctor had no choice but to obey. Mel led him around to the steps of her shuttlecraft and halted halfway up the ramp. "Well, Doctor, now that I have you as a captive audience once again, it's time you paid the price for your two-timing ways." She stood aside, and a young girl came down the ramp of the shuttle. She was no older than 8 or 9, thin, and had red hair not unlike Mel's. "Meet Susan, Doctor." The Doctor stood confused, unsure as to what was going on. Was this little girl an android programmed to kill him? "Hello, Susan," the Doctor said kindly, not taking his eyes from Mistress Mel. Mistress Mel leered evily. And in that leer was borne 9 years of pent-up frustration and hate. "Doctor, meet your daughter." The Doctor nearly passed out, but two Daleks caught him and propped him up with their claw-sticks. "Susan, say hello to your deadbeat dad." The little girl walked up to the Doctor and peered at him curiously. "Are you really my father?" Just as the Doctor was about to reply, a commotion came from the front of the hotel. The crowd of Daleks parted to make way for a sobbing, stumbling Grace who came out to the Doctor and collapsed at his feet, crying. The Doctor knelt down and caressed her cheek. "Grace, what's wrong?" Grace looked up into his eyes, her face a mixture of shock and fear. "Grace, speak to me!" Suddenly, she began sobbing uncontrollably. "Doctor ... I'm pregnant!" The Doctor keeled over for the second time in as many minutes. Mel strode down the ramp. "Well, Doctor, looks like you'll be paying *double* child support, now that you've knocked up your latest bimbo." She pulled a compact megabyte modem out of her boot. "And considering the fact that you owe me 9 years of back child support, multiplied by the galactic inflation increase ... you owe me about ten bazillion credits." The alternate Grace suddenly looked up from her sobbing and peered closely at Mistress Mel. "Mel?" she croaked, as if recognizing her. "Yes?" "I know you ..." Grace mumbled through her sobs. "We were at university together in the mid-eighties!" Mel looked at Grace again, and suddenly she realized why Grace had looked so familiar to her back on Skaro. "Grace ... Grace *Holloway*?!?" "Yes," sobbed Grace. Mel ran down the steps and embraced her. The Doctor stared in complete amazement. He had lost complete control of the situation. "You two ... *knew* each other -- before?" "Yes," replied the alt-Grace as the alt-Mel kissed her on the cheek. "Ten years ago, at university ... we were lovers." The Doctor keeled over for the third time. To Be Continued... Good luck, Chris! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!! }}